Unexpected
by Don'tEvenHaveAGun
Summary: Raising children would not be his strong point, even with the wife gone slaying Dragons without him.
1. Chapter 1

Call it a heated discussion. A heated discussion that lead his wife not to return home for an entire month. An entire month with a few couriers coming to the manor with oddly fazed stares. "You have another delivery. From your-"

Marcurio fished the folded letter from the couriers hands, the man snapped his hand back from Marcurio's rash movement. "Yes- Yes. I know. From my saber cat of a wife." The courier watched the Imperial cut through the wax that bound the letter together, then opened the many-a-time folded piece of paper. The letter only spared the mage with a few words, nothing on the lines of comfort of, **"I'm returning home."**

"I'll tell you something _boy, _never get married." The messenger could say nothing in reply when the Imperial slammed the door on his face, barely mumbling out the words, 'Have a nice day sir.'

This argument did start a month counting today. His wife voiced her opinion on the topic of children again, something to add to the litter of their bared home. Marcurio simply remarked that it was a terrible idea on the account of her birth rights as the Dragonborn. He had to remember that she was still a woman with those bloody maternal needs to satisfy. On some occasion he even offered her to buy her a mutt to fill the gap of wanting children, he recommended just to call the hound, 'Kid' Upon hearing those words, it struck her home and within bitter rage she slammed the door and hasn't stepped inside for the past month.

With a month of Solitude and nonsense chatter from her Stewart, Erik. It almost drove him mad. Erik would begin to comment on small things such as, "I've known Persival since we were kids. She'll get what she wants." or, "Are you scared of the challenge of children? Nay, they are not as bad as you think." And Erik would smile, that blooming smile that would cause the Imperial to slam his mug down, push the bard over, and retreat to his room so he could drink alone.

When he was alone in _their _room, the room that him and his wife would share on brighter days. He would think, and think, then think some more on those troubling words his barbaric wife would spew from those fragile lips. He'd remember the letters his wife use to send him, then he would remember his own mother. His wife, Persival would send him the most beautiful of letters, ignore the fact that her education of the tongue was not grand, but he waved that off that at least she was trying. Persival would speak of the vast lands of Solstheim, and how the sands could pile over head, and her deeds that she was faced with. Marcurio's mother- A shrewd diplomat that was not keen on her son marrying someone from Skyrim; A Nordic woman with little to almost no education at all. In these letters that were sealed and mailed to him, his mother would speak of other women that he could only dream to be with 'So said his mother' replying that she did not want her grandchildren to come out soft-headed.

"Marcurio." There was a light tap at the door, the voice was so soft, it almost seemed unused over a period of time. He almost didn't catch the voice if it wasn't for the second knock on his door. It'd take him a moment to sit up from his chair, a mug in one hand that lingered a strong spell of mead. Staring, he finally stood to answer the door. Standing face to face with the fair haired woman his mother warned him about. There would of course be a rush of anger, but his hand's flew up and he wrapped his arms around her slender shoulders. He had to much pride to beg her to stay with him, so he spoke of nothing. His mug would press against the back of her simple house dress.

He'd pull away, thinking of those long deserved words of that he missed her, but he never had the chance till he looked down at what was conjoined to the sides of her hips. With tiny balled up hands that held onto her thin, fabric dress, there stood two tiny girls, more along the ages of eight or nine.

He dropped his mug.


	2. Chapter 2

Marcurio would not leave his room for several days. He could hear laughter, not of adults, but more of squealing little girls that played outside his bedroom. He could also hear Persival on the other side of the door, speaking briefly with Erik. He ignored the conversation since he knew it would be about him, so he'd simply turn over in his bed and pressed his hand to his forehead to compress a rising headache from the crackling laughter of little girls that seemed to never sleep.

"Girls, why girls? Why not bring sons you blasted, selfish woman." He'd tell himself over and over. Then he could hear the patter of feet, and the door would begin to shake from the girls running through the halls and pass his bedroom.

"Erik I honestly don't know how to face Marcurio over this? These girls-" She'd pause for a moment when she saw the subtle smile of Erik, his hand rubbed underneath his chin and across his russet beard, but she'd begin again, "These girls needed me. For when I saw them, I saw a little of myself and-"

Erik would cut her off, he seemed humorous over the situation, "Though you did leave on an adventure to get away from Marcurio in the first place lets not forget that. Marriage problems arose when you started talking about children. And look what happened. Children."

"Aye, but tis' my decision to raise them. If he wants no part in it, then let him be a bloody fool to risk the opportunity of pride. Pride and satisfaction in helping another." Persival remembered to start fixing the plates upon the table, her hands ran across the table-cloth to swipe away a few crumbs from the girls snack they had this afternoon that was made up of a few biscuits that was doused in honey and a cup of water to drink.

"It must hurt you in some way that he does not share the same mindset as you? Healthy parenting does consist of two people with different outlooks." Erik noted, and watched as her hand froze for a moment over a mug, then placed the cup back in its proper place.

"You and I should both know that is not true. My father stayed, and yours the same." She stood straight, wiping her hands on her apron, "Now settle, and help me prepare the table. My father is coming tonight. He wishes to see _my_ daughters." Erik watched for a twist of emotion on the girls face, though much like the Dragonborn she claims to be nothing changed, and her lips read nothing over the sort of sadness.

"Then what will happen when you leave again? You have to make your living. It's birthright."

"It's always about birthright! I did not wish for a curse, twas givin' to me. Now, I'll think about it- just give me the time to-"

"I'll take them on." Erik kept his calm, his smile almost radiated from his rosy cheeks. "I'd be more like an uncle, or an older brother. Just give Marcurio time possibly. Maybe?"

"I-I" Her words caught in her throat. Her arm's wrapped around him.

**-x-**

"Grand-babies? Eh?" The old war bear walked into the home, his hand pressing against the door as it slammed open. "Where are these lil'uns?" Then there was a great gasp of horsed laughter, when Persival's father saw his daughter's paled face. She was standing in front of the table, her hand's crossed over one another; The girls stood upon opposite sides of Persival. With every step of Giermund Heights mighty step there was a sound of bouncing glass that would settle, then jump again with his power-hungry footstep.

"Right here, Papa." And Persival would present her new children to her Father, though the girls were stricken silly with utter excitement of family, and utter fear of the size of their new _Grandfather. _Persival touched the sides of their shoulders to push them ahead of her, they'd look up and she nodded in a quiet approval.

It grew quiet finally as their footsteps approached Giermund Heights. They couldn't see his lips behind a mass of salt and pepper colored beard, where he casually touched, and raked his fingers through as the two little girls looked up to ponder him. "My name- it's Sofie.. My name is Sofie." The girl with auburn kissed hair spoke first, her hand's pressed scared against her sides. "And-" Sofie would look back at Persival, and Persival would nod for her to continue, "And it's nice to meet you, sir."

"Aye, a real beauty of a name. And what of the smaller one? You- speak up child." Giermund patted Sofie's head with his large palm, rustling over her auburn hair; His eyes darting at the other girl.

The Imperial child looked like she was about to cry, taking one step back as Giermund took one step forward to get a better view of the girls face. The smaller girl stopped with Persival touch. "Lucia! My name is Lucia." Lucia almost cried as she felt trapped, and questioned.

With precaution Giermund stuck out his hand to Lucia, giving her time to calm, finally letting her fingers graze over his. "A pleasure." With thick rolled accent, he spoke smoothly. Finally he'd wrap his arm's around his daughter to greet her, "Aye, a fine batch to the heir. A lovely family indeed, ye girls are a true tundra treasure to behold. And what of the little man? Ye husband? Is the Imperial still thriving among the Nords with his fancy speech of magic?"

The girls followed Giermund around the table, with Persival pulling out a wooden chair for her father, the girls took Giermund's furs that were placed upon his massive shoulders so they could hang it by the fireplace to melt the thick of snow off of it. "Aye, Papa. Marcurio is still alive. Though I fear he will not be joining us for supper." She spoke with some sort of venom upon her pink lips while she prepared her father's ale, dipping the substance into his mug to warm his old bones, sitting the girl's down at the dinner table.

Dumbfounded, Giermund's brows knitted together. "Bloody, pompous boy. A real strange one he be. Not to present his daughters to their Grandfather? His own kin? Bah- Imperials are sly creatures." The old war bear downed his mug, and gestured his daughter for another drink.

"I beg you not to speak ill of my husband, Papa. He still lurks in the house. I'm not pressing my luck with him now." She poured her father another one, where he welcomed fondly.

"Ill? Daughter I only speak truth. Haven't I taught you that? I don't hate the lad, I just beg for some respect from him. Does he still speak to that mother of his? Does she know of the girls yet? And what do ye bloody mean pressing your luck?"

"Nay, she knows nothing of my children. And Aye, he still speaks to the she-devil, tis' his mother after all. My luck with him concerns my girls. Papa- a lot has happened since ye last visited, I'm sure you have noticed with my adopted kin." Lucia and Sofie looked up from their empty plates and stared at Persival, she took noticed to stopped herself, "But- after the girls have had supper and washed I will tell you."

And so it came as the sun sunk into the tundra and all its inhabits stirred to a dreaded whisper around the manor that was stuck in the middle of the woods. The farm animals huddled under double moons, leaving the chickens to cluck no more and into a chicken coop to get off the layer of ice that frosted over with the night.

Persival was just finishing placing the white nightgown over Lucia's head, with Sofie already tucked between her bear pelts and assorted colored wool that drove the drift away. Lucia would follow in suit as Persival hoisted the covers to one side, letting her slide in and then closed the covers over the girls body. "Mama." Persival's back was turned away from Sofie. Sofie probed herself up on her feather hemmed pillow.

"Aye, my lil'un? Need something?" She smoothed the covers over Lucia, and then turned to face the other child with a light ring in her tired voice, though it was more out of pleasure with a look of content as she stared down at what she has offered to these children.

"Nothing that I need Mama. Is there something that we can do for you?"

"What do you mean?" Queerly Persival would stare at the soft complexion of Sofie, then she could hear Lucia begin to rustle underneath the sheets. "Well- No." She'd blink, and would pause to develop this question of offering from a child, a small child at that. "Nothing at all. Possibly start your studies soon." Persival shrugged, and leaned over the girls bed's giving them a light peck upon the forehead. She was merely pacing herself, thinking out more than in.

"Well Mama." Lucia would finish for Sofie, "If- by chance there is something you need. We'll be here.." Persival would begin to pace towards the door, slowly her cheeks bones would begin to hurt on how hard she was smiling.

"Aye, Goodnight my loves."

**-x-**

"Papa, are you always drinking?" Persival would smile, pulling out a chair from under the table that sat next to Giermund. He'd shrug from his daughter's blunt retort, but smiled dimly when he came into view with his fair-haired daughter. Persival rested her hand's upon her table, turning slightly so she could catch her father's hazed stare with her iceberg glare.

Giermund placed his mug down on the table-spread, thinking idly as he saw a teasing nature vex those very hues; even as a little girl, Persival always had that damning stare. Giermund gave a tired huff, and stroked his beard again. "Always with ye teasing girl. Lucky I got ye married off with a tongue such as yours." He'd give a low chuckle that would come off his large chest, "Never worried to begin with. Always had these boys coming to my home, begging to see the beauty of Rorikstead. Even as a babe you always gave me trouble. More trouble than I need from a woman. Ye know you're the reason I never wed."

Persival grew quiet for a moment, staring down at her own mug that was filled to the brim with water that she boiled clean from the mountain river. "Papa."

"Aye, my cub?"

"Can you tell me again on how you found me? Remember the one about the fort raid?"

Giermund would smile fondly, leaning back into the wooden chair. Many a time he would tell her this story on how he raised her as his own, teaching her the trade of sword play, and strumming bows.

Giermund said the night that he met her was a harsh night. The commander was yelling, and barking at the men to tread through the snow and across an Imperial Fort that was ramshackle from bandits that lived among the tundra fields. Giermund said that him and his men needed a place to sleep, needed some sort of shelter and the recruits were young, untrained, and not keen to manual labor of building a shelter into a snow bank to shield themselves from blizzard winds.

He told how they had to break down the doors that were bolted to the nail, and how a parade of bandits spewed from the tower walls, throwing spears and casting unnatural magics that flooded the skies in a steady bloom of greens and horrid flames that began to spread. Even through the smokes, and flames that smothered and gagged Giermund he said he could still see the stars that radiated a lulling aura of some sort of peace.

So he gave it his all, ramming his body through the bandits, cutting down the bodies and letting them flop to the iced-over ground, lifeless. Persival's eyes always seemed to widen when her father spoke of a vivid image that still ran through his mind. He even lost his best friend that night, a spear ran straight through his chest and was penetrated and stuck to cobblestone walls.

Bandits began to dwindle, with most of them fleeing away among colored skies that smeared like pastels.

As his men began to loot whatever was left, he said that he came among one basket that still troubled him today, though he smiled proudly as he told the story again and again to his only daughter. Wrapped among wool, and tucked away in a wicker basket was a small babe, a little girl with a small patch of golden hair. Giermund quickly wrapped her up and hid her away from the rest. He'd claim her, for he knew that she was something no amount of treasure could measure up to. And that was kin.

Persival was now an adult, though she still felt awed when she'd listen to his war tales and the sites that she has not yet seen. She could remember her father's scent of honeyed mead and swaying evergreen that clouded a forest, and it made her sad every time her father would leave her after a visit.

"If- only Marcurio would feel the same." And this sentenced troubled her father most of all.

"This man does not want these girls? Persival, what are you not telling me? Speak up girl." His lips knitted low in a whistled whisper, picking the brain of his looming daughter's eyes.

"I left for a month Papa. Never told Marcurio where I was going ye see? Spent time in the hills and among warmer climates, even went to Windhelm when I began to feel sick of warm weather. I left over anger, anger that Marcurio would not acknowledge, nor consider. I wanted children, children to bear. These girls seemed to be my outlet, they were begging me for a coin and I couldn't help to ask their story. I felt like you Papa- strong. I took on something that others would be to blind and passed them over. They are mine, and Marcurio can't father them."

"You can't force this among some men. If you wanted family relations ye should have married someone who shares your own thinking, and not something exotic like a stuffed bird. Marcurio is a stuffed bird, little cub." This made Persival snicker slightly, "Should of married that Erik boy- We may not have a same input of politics that- strange Nord, but he'd make a vibrant da."

"Speaking unjustly about someone in their own home is considered rude. Or do Nords not follow that principle?" Persival would turn around in her chair, and Marcurio fashioned her back with a umbrage stare.

"Eh, boy. Right on time, sit. Oh, sit." Opposite ends of the table, Marcurio would sit in front of his wife on the other side of the table. Though this remark from the Imperial only made Giermund chuckle loudly than he intended. "Ah, rustled the bird's fancy feathers have we boy? What bring ye down from your cage?"

**-x-**

Everyone was beginning to grow hazy. Lid's seemed to fall like a pin. Oh, but not for Persival and Marcurio. They seemed to duke it out in heated whispers in their bedroom.

"You're a blundering brat. Do you know that? A silly wench that I worried myself over for the past month. Do you know how stressed I am? Not knowing that you have not grown ill, or gobbled by gabbing jaws from those over grown lizards that seem to flood the damned skies. Dammit, Persival! Don't you bloody ignore me like this!"

She crossed her arm's over her chest, and a tangle of blond draped to one side of her bared shoulders from changing into her nightgown. "You know you dumped mead on my children?" She'd simply say, and it irked him even more.

"What are you talking about you spoiled thing?" Normally, Marcurio has never spoken this way towards Persival. In fact these words he was using for her was rather new, well besides before they decided on an elope.

"When you saw them. You dropped your mead that splashed their dresses." She spoke more coldly.

"Ah? Well-" Marcurio had to think back, then he would bite his tongue. "That was merely an accident. I had no intentions in to be startled like that. And for that I'm sorry, but Persi-"

She'd cut him off, "You should not be saying sorry to me, but to only my children. Children I hoped you soon love?"

**A/N: So begins the chapters that follows Marcurio's parenting. Giermund will be watching his son-in-law from afar, along with Erik; they will both enjoy the humor of this Imperial man's stress in making his wife pleased. **

**Be sure to Review, and thank you for the first couple views! **


	3. Three men and a wooden comb

**Title: Three men and a wooden comb. **

"Ow."

And so started the firing shots. "Ow!" There was another girlish squeal. "That really hurts!" Sofie tried to move away from Marcurio's hand, while the other held a wooden comb. Roughly, he pushed the girl back down to sit in front of him and he would try it again.

"Settle down. It is not as bad as you put it." And Marcurio would begin to run the comb through Sofie's hair again. She'd run her hand through her hair to ease her sensitive head, and her face would grow red over the verge of tears.

Erik sat in the rocking chair that was adjacent from Marcurio and Sofie who were was sitting on the floor, and how he basically had to battle this tiny girl to direct some influence of personal hygiene to a young miss. Erik was basically about to crack, and spill over an eruption of laughter. Watching Marcurio pull against Sofie's dress to sit her down in front of him many-a-time.

Lucia's lips puckered with utter horror and came to vivid realization that it would be her next that would get the wooden comb. Panicked, she'd grab onto Erik's trousers, and basically killing over and praying that Erik would not let her come to the same fate like her adopted sibling.

"Perhaps- you may be a little too hard on the girl? Mind if I draw in some advice? May I spin a conclusion that you take one strand at a time? Or do you want bald daughters?" Erik would pull Lucia up from the ground, dawning down her worries.

"Eh? A strand at a time? Nonsense! Complete nonsense. My mother treated my head with the same care and I have yet to show 'balding' Plus they'll grow tolerate." Marcurio finally tamed the unruly hair, and Sofie would glare up at Erik with blurry, gazed eyes that pleaded help when he started to braid her hair which ended underneath her shoulder-blades. "You're done now." With the chance Sofie had, she scurried away from him on the floor her knee's grazing pass wooden floors. "Lucia, come here. We have to get you ready for today. No fuss, young ladies do not fuss."

"Nor the wives." Erik yawned plainly, and Marcurio shot him a crud look.

"Can't I have Erik do it?" Lucia begged. Sofie had her face pressed against Erik's arm, sulking like any normal child would if they had gotten the brush, and understood true torture. "What about Mama?"

"Mama traveled to the market and won't be back for several days. Erik- well. No. Come and sit in front of me." Lucia clung tighter to Erik, as if her very life was hanging by a single, frail hair. Though, Erik was sending her out to the wolves when he pushed her toward's Marcurio who's eyes did not plead that he had the time for crying.

"Ah- and so the stuffed bird shows my granddaughters about bein' pretty as a tundra cotton." Giermund would enter the children's room, bringing along his barbaric laughter that Marcurio knew so well. _He almost sounded like Persival._

Lucia seemed ready for the chopping block the way that she would stare up at her grandfather with such displeasure, it seemed almost tragic. With quick movements, Giermund plucked her from the floor. Sofie came scattering for his leg. "Now, now. Lil'uns. What seems to upset your goat so bad?"

"Upset your what?" Marcurio frowned, and ran his fingers through his own hair that has yet to be pulled up itself.

Giermund ignored Marcurio. He held up Lucia into the air to take a good look at her, squinting his wise stricken eyes. "Now tell ye Grandfather lil'un."

It took only a moment for Lucia to break down from simple, kind words. Grasping for clumps of beard to cry into, sobbing, "I want Mama."

"Mama will be makin' it around those hills ye see. Bringing treats and probably a club to put Papa to sleep. Now smile, girls are not pretty when they are cryin' like you are." The great bear of a man pressed the Imperial girl against his chest, her face buried under thick layers of graying beard. "Now tell me. What's making you so ill?"

"She doesn't want her hair brushed. Ol' Marcurio is brushing the girl's hair too hard. Tried to tell him girls are the sensitive types, including when it comes to hair." Erik added, basically throwing Marcurio under the Mammoth.

"Are ye daft boy? I had to brush Persival's hair and learned to be kind as a torchbug. Give me the comb, I'll show ya' ye' stuffed bird." Call it comical when Giermund snatched the wooden comb from Marcurio's hand. Setting the child down on his knee and combing through her short, bobbed hair. Even placing her hair back in her favorite tie of velvet-colored ribbon.

The old war bear would hum a slow tune as he brushed through Lucia's hair: leaving Sofie, Erik, and even Marcurio in a state of awe. The humor laid that such a giant man, with giant hands, also had his giant heart. Then he would teach Marcurio to brush through little girl hair. And it came to a point when both of the girls would sit down, and let Marcurio finish the task of morning awake up call.

**A/N: Nothing better than three men brushing a child's hair to prepare her for the world for today. **

**The next Title: I don't want to sleep alone. **


	4. I don't want to sleep alone

**Title:** **I don't want to sleep alone.**

Marcurio held the pillow over his head. Just maybe- if he was smart enough he would suffocate himself to sleep, only then he wouldn't have to answer the door. That shaking, doorknob turning, wooden door. He threw his pillow to the other side of his bed, the part where his wife would sleep when she was home for a week or so, and to his demise his wife was not here for this night. He'd eye the brass knob's silhouette handle from across the threshold, irritated that the knocking still bounced off the wood.

He would have to coax himself that it wasn't about him anymore.

"I-I'm coming." Venom stung his lips, and proved him sour in his movement. He lazily moved one foot off the edge of his bed, then the other followed. Touching the cold, wooden floors that squeaked when he adjusted his weight on solid ground. He ran his fingers through his tarred=black hair, a sigh of utter grief rolled off his lips.

Though the knocking continued as if they never heard him, this time more urgent with every step he made. "Didn't I say I was coming? Dammit." He'd mutter to himself, keeping check of his aggressive nature to anything and everything that crawled underneath his skin: Including late night knocking.

Finally his hand-made contact to cold brass and he turned the knob, cracking the door that threw in a ray of ghostly moon beam that graced out from the kitchen's windows from across the hall. His lips were thin, his eyes rubbed red from the lack of sleep, and he shoved his hand's through his hair strands again, looking down at Lucia who stood in the middle of the hallway. "Well? What's wrong? Do you need a glass of water again Lucia?" He'd jumbled out in a blurred slur.

Nervously, she picked at the marble eye from her little doll; the one that bore thin yarn strands of sunken red. "No." She'd simply squeaked as she caught eye of Marcurio looking down at her, and displeased with awful timing.

Marcurio frowned hard, "Then what is it?" He reached out to push the doll away from her face so that she could speak more properly with him, what makes asking for help when others can not understand your speech?

Lucia paused, and fumbled her words; it'd only reminded him more when he would have to start schooling the girls. Divines know that Persival wouldn't teach manners to little girls, counting on who raised her to begin with. Marcurio would often wonder on how he could understand his blasted wife in the first place.

"I had a nightmare."

"And?" Marcurio honestly didn't know where this was leading.

"May- Well can I sleep with you tonight? I'm afraid."

Oddly, he could feel his cheekbones rise with some glimmer of humor, and mused to his daughter like an adult than a child, "Well. Those are only dreams. Dreams will and cannot harm you. It's simply a succession of images that you see everyday that are jumbled together."

Bewildered, Lucia pressed the rag doll against her chest, squinting to see Marcurio's face. "Whats succession?"

"Never mind that. It's bed time. Here, let me walk you back." He turned the girl around, but she quickly snapped back to wrap her arm's around his waist, even dropping her small doll to the floor. She grew limp, and pressed her face against Marcurio's stomach. "Lucia, get up now. This is no time for playing!" His voice rose stern, but she continued to ignore.

"Please. Don't make me go to bed alone. It will only be this one night I promise!" Her voice cracked, but was muffled by Marcurio's stark-white undershirt.

"Shh, shh. Settle child. Where is Erik, and your Grandfather? What about your sister? Why can't you sleep next to her?"

She moved her head up, "Grandfather traveled with Mama, remember? Erik is off for the weekend, and Sofie kicks in her sleep."

"But- I" He'd look down at the girl, and with a simple pat on her head he'd give in, "Fine. Sleep on your mother's side." Lucia quickly dried her tears, and flung herself upon Marcurio's bed. He'd close his door, to only turn around to find Lucia underneath a sea of covers.

Slowly sinking into his own bed, he could feel the bed move around from the tiny frame next to him, "Settle, child." He'd whisper, and Lucia would wrap her arm's around Marcurio's arm.

Finally, an hour passed and she reached rest. Marcurio's eyes were dropping also, slowly slumbering off and adjusting to how Lucia wrapped herself around his arm.

But then- another knock dawned from his bedroom doors, and a whispered tone of "Papa." Could be heard from the other side of the door.

Thinking to himself, he'd laugh, but also wanted to suffocate himself with the pillow again, "Daughters? Honestly? And we had to have two of them?"

**Next Title: The Father's Trade**


	5. The Father's Trade

**Title: The Father's Trade**

"First." Persival spoke clearly, her voice could be heard across the manor perfectly, even if it was only meant for Marcurio to hear her, "First- I need the cow brushed, then replace the wet way in the chicken coop with cleaner hay; those poor things have sat in week ol' filth." Marcurio's facial features twisted grim, but he nodded nonetheless. "The girls haven't had their afternoon snack yet: they requested biscuits and honey again, remember, and for the love of Talos don't let me stretch this- that Sofie like's her honey on the side so she can dip it, while Lucia wants her's smothered in it. Erik recently picked up a bushel of apples, slice them and make sure they eat their apples. They will not eat them if they have not been skinned. Water for both."

"Anything else?" His lips tightened when he could feel Erik and Giermund looming from the opposite end of the room. He'd ignored them and kept his eyes on his wife whom would occasionally squint when his eyes began to linger someplace else.

"Aye. Now that ye' mentioned it. There is. Papa ripped his trousers yesterday. He was rustling with fixin the animal pen. Somehow he got his pants stuck again on a nail, and well, he needs mending. Do ye' mind sewing his pants up again? Papa only owns two pairs of trousers and that ol' fool refuses to buy new ones." Brilliant, simply brilliant. But he only crossed his hands behind his back, nodding slowly on the long list of meaningless duties his wife burdened him with.

"And?"

Persival would smile, "No nothing else. Me and Erik will be back- Give us a nights worth of hunt, we'll have new furs for the roaring winter. It's going to be a hard one this year."

"And how can you honestly tell?"

"It's a Nord feelin' Imperial's aren't like mountain people. We'll save a bear pelt for ye, Love."

Persival grabbed her bow, told the girls she loved them, kissed Marcurio and her father on the side of the cheek, and bolted out the doors along with Erik who balanced her carry on, and a load of extra bolts for her crossbow. When Marcurio couldn't see Erik or Persival in the distance he knew that he'd have to start the manor repairs, and childcare.

The girls were extremely needy today, following Marcurio around as they tugged against his mage robes. "But, Papaaa." Sofie squealed, "I'm so hungry. Pleasee make us our biscuits, pleaseee."

"Off this instants. This is most unladylike! Off, and don't beg child."

Lucia fell to the other side of Marcurio, her face burying into his hip, "But Mama would have already fed us by now- please. Oh please."

Marcurio tried his best to squeeze pass the kitchen doors, his fingers pulling along the door frame as both of his daughters clung on, "Bloody- Fine, fine! I'm starting now."

The girls dropped off his body, rummaging like savages as they sat down at the table, elbows placed upon the table layout. They squeaked, and they spoke in loud voices from across the table. It worried Marcurio most of all, _Mother is soon to do her yearly visits, her yearly inspection of his family. _Last year when his mother docked on Skyrim to meet his wife, and her father- it wasn't so grand as he hoped.

He remembered it vividly. When his mother took sight of the fair-haired woman he claimed to be his wife, his mother simply pouted and bluntly asked, _"Ah- So you got her pregnant? Son, you should have known better than to show your underclothes to a barbarian woman. Now out with it Marcy, tell mother that you married a fresh-faced Imperial. Do it now. You know how I feel about jokes."_ It was plainly spoken in front of Persival, and her father. Persival frowned, while Giermund could only rattle a laugh and place his hand against his forehead to check if he was still conscious from the hard laughing. _"Ah- so she's not pregnant? You are not drunk Marcy?"_

Marcurio would loom his hand across the biscuits that he sprawled out on the counter. With a flick of his wrist, and a sudden bloom of a shallow flame he heated the girls biscuits to a soft tan. And for a moment, Marcurio could understand the room grew silent and was not flooded with little girl chatter.

"H-how?"The voice broke him out of mid-worry about his mother.

Marcurio looked down to see where the voice was going from, and it was Sofie's soften voice that usually was the one to ask questions of certain enigmas that popped up, even to how obvious the answers were. "How did you do that Papa?"

"Do?" Marcurio followed the girl's eye direction, and it was to the flicker flame that danced about his fingertips. Releasing his concentration the flame went out like a drawn wind. "You mean the flame? You want to know about the flame?" Even if these girls wasn't Persival's litter, they still had that daunting, questing vex like she did. Even the same tiny head tilt when they were so drawn to something.

Both girls nodded.

Marcurio would usually use the same trick with Persival when they use to travel with each other. Strolling crypts, and dungeons had their advantages with young, pretty women such as Persival. She'd be twenty-one when they wed, he was thirty. Oh- how they fought mostly. It would always put them in danger, though he blamed it was her pigheaded nature that caused her to run her mouth, and she threw back in his face that he was too ignorant to understand people's different ways of human speech and customs. Long story short- They would end up screaming at each other, forgetting the mission, and had the bandits listening to their humor-filled argument. Mostly after fighting, they would make up. Give it a night of lust and premarital sex, or he'd simply have to charm her with a flick of his wrist and a bloom of a flame. Persival was so engaged, so trusting of his magic that she'd try to reach out and touch it, in which he would quickly douse because of her dingy flaws. She was so carved to be a warrior from her father and has never truly seen people use different magics, except to the occasional amateur restoration spells.

Though he wondered if he could use the same trick of magic to sooth these girls out of screaming and girly fits. Marcurio moved his hand down to their eye level, and he flicked the same color of smothered flame that manifested from the air. "I've practiced magic since I was your age. My own father taught me the trade." There was a soft reflection of the dulling flame in their eyes as they watched the flicker sway from his fingertips, feeling a steady warmth against their paled cheeks.

Lucia put her hand out, "Can you teach me the same thing?"

Sofie followed her younger sibling, bumping her younger sibling's hand out-of-the-way with hers, "And me too?! I want to learn something like that!"

Marcurio's flame went out, and he nodded his head. With a tender smile he replied, "Yes, I can teach you. But you need to master restoration before destruction. You need to know how to lick your wounds before you cause them." Marcurio balled up his fist, then released it to let a shimmer of a spark fly up and then back around his arm. The magic's entwined, and gathered, then disappeared into nothingness. "I can teach you what my father taught me."

They completely forgot about afternoon snack, and gathered into the library wing. Marcurio pulled some old tomes from their spots, reading only a few to the girls. Respectfully they listened to every word of knowledge; grasping onto something new. They would beg Marcurio to flicker the flame again, or splash the sparks of entwining magic. He'd throw magelight into the air, and the girls would try to reach up and grasp the aura that shown brighter than the sun, or the two moons that lurked high on cloudless nights.

The day pressed on, and soon night shuttered in, along with new morn and the birth of dawn. Persival came riding in, displeased that no progress was done, and even Giermund, Persival's father was drunk and asleep in the cows hay again.

Persival jolted the doors into the house, and pulled open the door's to her room. Only stopping when she saw the display of both the girls cuddled up next to Marcurio, sleeping soundly and haven't yet been awaken by the morning rays. A tome rested directly upon Marcurio's face, his hair half way out of his ribbon.

Erik joined in on the view, snickering lowly, "This stuffed bird is grown' soft on us."

"Aye," Persival smiled, "He has." And they closed the doors.

**Next Title: No Pets. Ever.**

**A/N: Thanks guys for the reviews! It means a lot. My- writing is not the best. I blame two languages. (German is my native tongue) But, I'd rather write in English. The king's speech! So- Thank you guys so much for being patient with me and my slow ways. **


	6. No Pets Ever

**Title: No Pets. Ever.**

There was a shriek of terror that came from the gathering hall, clearly it made whatever Marcurio was doing stop. Placing a carefully made vile down into its holder, wiping his hands, he sprinted down the stairs to whatever disturbance that may of cause a horrible squeak.

"Papa!"

Marcurio stopped at the bottom of the steps, his hands almost plastered to the rails when he saw the monstrosity that you could find anywhere in Skyrim. "Papa.." Sofie whimpered as she was huddled up on the dinner table, knocking whatever down that got in her way. Lucia was down on the floor near the creature, and looked almost dumbfounded. This Frostspider tried it's best to climb up on the chair, and reach for Sofie

"Lucia!" Marcurio chocked, and he got her attention.

"Yes, Papa?" Marcurio quietly gestured for the younger girl, but he was oddly flabbergasted on how calm she was as she watched the spider try it's best to climb. Judging by size of this spider it was clearly a baby, not yet tasting what Nordic blood was.

"Come here now!"

"But, why?"

Lucia tilted her head, and questioned on why Marcurio was so frantic to get her away from the situation of showing off her new pet.

"That- That thing. How did it get in our house? Lucia, don't question your Father and come here this instants!"

"You mean Fig?" Lucia stayed in place, and instead of acknowledging her Father's orders she went out to touch the frostspider on top of its head, all eight eyes blinked in union which only caused Sofie to cry out for Marcurio again. Marcurio would crawl out to the side, his hands latching onto the table, then around Sofie as she clung around his neck. He took a step back, as he held Sofie up.

"What did I tell you about bring pets into the house, Lucia?" Certainly this wouldn't be the first time. She's brought many 'pets' into the house with Marcurio's disapproval, and Sofie's reaction terrified. You name it: Foxes, hounds, mudcrabs, elk. If Lucia truly had her way she'd bring a blooming giant into the house, where she'd preform her famous tea parties; the giant of course would sleep at the foot of her bed.

Marcurio would say no to these animals all the time.

Lucia found a way around the system, she went to Mama first before Papa, "But Mama said I can keep Fig. I promise to keep him away from the chickens this time. Mama even bought me a rope from the village, now I can keep him close to me."

Marcurio frowned. Of course his wife would make him look like the bad guy in this situation. And he'd bet gold that Erik and Giermund pressured her to let the child keep this ugly excuse of a childhood pet. "I-I" Marcurio thought hard, Sofie clung tighter to Marcurio with legs wrapped around his waist and he'd simply pat her back as he stared down at his other daughter. "What does it eat?" He spoke more softly.

Lucia smiled hard, "Lettuce. Fig loves Lettuce."

**Next: Grandmother comes to Skyrim**

**A/N: No this story does not relate to He'd Remember from my other fics. I'm actually making a back story though. It will be about how Marcurio know's Giermund, Erik, and Persival. **

**The next chapter will be about how Marcurio finally tells his mother about his adopted children, and there will be a small surprise at the end of that chapter that will leave Giermund happy, and Marcurio displeased as always. **


	7. Grandmother Comes To Skyrim

**Title: Grandmother comes to Skyrim**

He could honestly feel the sweat dripping off his forehead. Marcurio was staring aimlessly upon the adjacent side of the table, side-by-side His Mother and Persival sat together, one with a oh-so-murderous outlook while the other mainly sipped at her wine from the long-necked glass. Lucia and Sofie sat opposite spots of Marcurio, while Giermund and Erik sat on different ends, grinning at each other through their barked cups. Fig was locked away downstairs not to alarm his Mother.

"Persival." Marcurio swallowed when he heard his Mother's voice, he knew it has only began in this morbid visit, "You've gained some weight since the last time I've seen you. Why is that?" Giermund and Erik tried to swallow their humor; Giermund was beginning to choke on his mug and coughed to the other side.

"I honestly do not know what ye' mean **Grace. **I've been content." Grace, Marcurio's Mother only took another sip from her glass. Grace could only comment back with, "Must be from child rearing. I did gain _some _weight after my son, but that is because I only gave birth to him."

Lucia grabbed Marcurio's hand, "Papa what is child rearing?" She spoke in a stuttered whisper. Marcurio nervously didn't catch on, but only held his daughter's hand, "Not now little one."

"And might I add Grace-" Persival was up at the base this time, Giermund and Erik leaning into the table as if in a slight protest to edge her on, to get a rise from both the women at the table. (For they knew two women in a house can not live together.) "Ye' hair seems different? A tinge of gray for Grandmother? Nay, don't get me wrong Grace, even the Nordic women grow old with pride. I'm just curious to ye' display since ye' know so much about magic and the changing of the body. Can't ye' bloody treat the peper-salt look?"

Marcurio has seen that look on his Mother's face before, though it was mostly when he did something wrong as a child from getting into her things, or breaking the prized family vase that would sit over their wooden fireplace. Her eyebrows would knit together, her thin, pinkish lips pressed into a fine line. His Mother was a vain woman, honestly prided herself on her looks. He had to do something, and he shot up from his seat, dropping his daughter's hand, "Wait.. wait! Let's just-" but he was cut off by his Mother's cup hitting the table and a rash, "Sit down, now!"

Persival knew better than to reel in his Mother's age and dangle the obvious in her face, but it was her only defense when his Mother began downing everything Persival worked for: Her house, Fig the Frostspider that was locked in the basement, the dresses she sown together for her two daughters, her culture, and the constant nagging that Persival has not yet had children with her son. Though, partly Marcurio blamed himself upon that, and it was a different cause with Lucia and Sofie, they were not his blood.

"So said the infertile swine. Nordic women can become pregnant with a flip of a coin, but you? You've truly differed and have no children, besides the adoptive." And Marcurio could hear the doubt of the word 'infertile' upon Lucia's lips, and what the meaning was, but he brushed that all to the side.

"Not wait a'minute lass. I know my daughter brought ye' age into the fight, but it's an even lower blow to bring culture into a hog fight, much the same to bring in the name of newly found kin. Ye' should feel damned honored that ye' kin married into ours." Giermund, that drunken warbear now felt obligated to defend his daughter's honor, "And don't talk about my daughter's dealin' in child baring, your son is a bit of a prude. A bloody prude! That stuffed bird has no intentions of Fathering, it was a damned miracle for his to rabble courage to take care of the adoptive!" Grace flashed Lucia and Sofie such a glare, then her doe eyes flashed towards her only son, it read 'bitter.'

"I don't think the problem lies with my son in carrying our family's name. Perhaps your daughter is truly unable to bare children."

"I'm pregnant, Grace." And everyone grew quiet, staring off in Persival's direction, "I'm honestly pregnant. I just didn't want to tell anyone yet." Her voice dropped in tone. "Which would-" She choked a small laugh, "explain weight gain."

**Next: You're staying how long?**


	8. Nightmares and Stress

**Title: Nightmares and Stress** (Changed title)

Through eyes of hazel and distrusting; she saw the splatter of blood, and the bellowed tune as a body hit the cobblestone. Hands unfolding as she scurried from behind the building to the body that hit the muck. "Mister, get up. Come on, get up!" The little girl was now touching the man's hand that gurgle his last words, to only be rejoiced or damned in his afterlife with open lids.

There was fire that blazed unnaturally; she was forced to watch her new home of a barrel burn down just like the city around her. And ever since her aunt and uncle took over her mother's farm – she's felt even more homeless since then.

With the plunging of swords against muscle, and the hollowed beckoning tune of Oblivion gnawing at the corners of her innocence, draining any hope of life from her sockets. She could hear a beat, a steady beat that came roaring closer and closer to the marketplace. She'd quickly got up, her bare feet stumbling over her only dress; she'd press her body against the building behind her, staring at the body that was the first to fall.

The sound was coming from a man that wore bear pelt like a crown on his head, grabbing the reigns of a horse that ran over Imperial soldiers in a clatter. This man ran his horse up the steps of Dragonsreach and it didn't take seconds till a mob of blue came thrashing behind him on foot, slashing the one's that begged for their lives to the group; gripping at the feet.

These soldiers were ruthless, torching the businesses that seemed to go against their wishes. Women and children were pulled out of homes to be protected while the husbands stood back in their houses hopping for reason as demise was whispered upon the tongue. It was an evil affair of crying and of screaming that these soldiers gave off. However, there was one that caught the tiny girl's fancy, the one that wore different armor among the rest, the only one you could actually see their face; the woman wore armor that she has never seen before, something gray that was smothered in a hue of russet and grime.

The little girl was in an awed state of how this woman brought up her sword to deflect one blow; she'd turn her body while her other hand held the matching sword to slash at the man's leather. The men around this woman were beginning to fall in a clatter and sounded of iron. The woman quickly turned to the girl, wide-eyed, and smeared in blood. The girl's throat clenched as she backed into the building closer. First the woman was walking, flicking her dueling swords to rid the blood off her steel, and then the woman was running towards her; her blades thrown down and protruded from between cobblestone.

The woman wrapped her arms around the little girl's body and then there was a scream – it was her screaming.

"Lucia – Lucia wake up!" The little girl thrashed against the body that was holding her close. Her fist clenched against cloth instead of hard armor. "Lucia it's me! Listen to me child!" And her eyes shot open, and she cried into the person's chest. She felt a hand run through her hair and the light brush of lips that touched her forehead. "It's ok. It's fine – stop crying. I'm here." Marcurio finally muttered into the top of her scalp, but Lucia pressed her face harder into his chest.

"Papa..." Was all the little girl could get out.

"Erm." Someone cleared their voice, and Marcurio was the first to react by turning towards the opening of the children's bedroom. It was his mother that bore a resentment; her fine, angled face turned sour though mixed in a certain flare of concern.

"Does she do this a lot?" Her voice was proud, something strong upon her approach; she began walking closer against the room. "You use to have nightmares when you were young. Though – I believe it's natural for innocent minds." Grace made it to the edge of the bed, hands crossed with a light sigh on her lips.

"For only three months; she's been having nightmares for three months. I certainly don't know what to do." He'd pause for a moment when his hand ran down the child's back; cradling the small being. "Though – she mostly screams about a woman grabbing her."

"And does the woman hurt her in her dreams?"

"No. Lucia has never mentioned that to me. Trust me, I do ask her in the mornings. She apparently has or pretends to have no recollection of the woman in her dreams." He'd shrug and began to rise with his daughter in his arms, "Mostly I take her back to Persival to sleep with us at night."

His mother blocked his path. His lips thinned, he knew how this night was going to end. "Wait – you know you don't have to stay here. I know you never wanted to stay in Skyrim. You even told me yourself right after you married her… Come home with me; you and the girls."

"And what of my unborn child?" He'd frown and tried to bypass behind his mother with Lucia wrapped around his neck, but his mother began to step closer.

"We'll take the baby also. I'll raise the children. They'll have a good life, remember that. With Nordic justice these children will grow up heathens and will die a prisoner's death." Grace raised her hand as she tried to stroke her hand through Lucia's hair, but Marcurio took a step back.

"Mother, I highly respect you and believe it or not Persival also respects you as her guest in our home. If she truly hated you or didn't trust you around her family she would of killed you on her front porch step. This little act that you are pulling – taking her children away from her would be automatic death. For that is treason against the Dragonborn, treason upon her name. Mother, respect my wife or I'll consider you dead to me. Now, I love you very much. Always have. So – goodnight." Her fingers curled back to her son's words, and she felt pain melt over her heart and tighten in her chest. She held herself high, not wanting to cry in front of the boy she raised alone.

"Yes, my son, goodnight to you; though mind you, for you have placed treason upon your own mother. I will only love my grandchildren because they are yours and not of the whore's." Darkly she spoke, and glared off as Marcurio walked past his mother.

As simple as that he paced down the halls, holding Lucia close to his chest as she finally simmered down and rested herself against the crook of his neck. He was leaning against the wall, fluttered with stress.

"Grandmother is not taking us? Right papa?"Lucia spoke weakly and he'd smothered her with a deepened hug as his back slid down the wall he was leaning against. He pressed his face against his daughters neck and Lucia wrapped her arms around his head, running her tiny fingers through his loosened hair.

"No - little cub. No."

He couldn't make his mother and wife happy. It doesn't mean he couldn't make his daughters happy.

**Next: Discussing The Outcome**


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